


Always Loyal To That

by primreceded



Category: Silent Hill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-01
Updated: 2009-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primreceded/pseuds/primreceded





	Always Loyal To That

**Title:** Always Loyal To That  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Fandom:** Silent Hill (movie verse)  
 **Disclaimer:** All characters, recognizable settings and or themes belong to Roger Avery, Christophe Gans, Konami, and others. I am in no way earning money or other profit from this fanfic.  
 **Char/Pair:** Cybil/Rose  
 **Prompt:** Loyalty @ [](http://www.insanejournal.com/users/10lilies/profile)[**10lilies**](http://www.insanejournal.com/users/10lilies/) , table [here](http://buyo105.insanejournal.com/705.html#cutid1)  
 **Spoilers:** Yes.  
 **Warnings:** Femm, possibly dark (it's Silent Hill)  
 **W/C:** 296  
 **A/N:** Bah. This has been in my head for a while, it's been an even longer while since I wrote this pairing, though I do love them so. Written for day 1 of [](http://www.insanejournal.com/users/mmom/profile)[**mmom**](http://www.insanejournal.com/users/mmom/)

  
The steam rises, high and over the sliding glass door to mix with the fog that coats everything now. She doesn’t see it even though it‘s thick, swirls between her legs as she walks, climbs over her bed at night while she lays and it waits for her breath to even out, for her to slip off into a fitful sleep.

It waits, now.

The water pounds down around her, drops hard and shameless against her naked skin. Her head is thrown back, eyes clenched and mouth open on a silent moan, a silent scream as her fingers work frantically between her legs.

Behind her lids is not pleasure, she sees dark and blood and the pulsating beat of a fan shadow against a door. She sees smoke and fire, tastes soot on her tongue, and fear. Always fear, always loyal to that. In her head is an echoing scream and the remains, charred and crucified. Displayed there for the underworld to see.

Her legs tremble and her free hand slips along the wet tile of the shower as she grunts and cries, rocks against the invading hands because she wants to come. Wants the disgust to take her under and fill her up, she just wants to feel. Empty since then, since _her_ and nothing helps. This thing is only a temporary fix and tomorrow or in an hour she’ll be hollow again.

She chokes on the shower water, on a sob as she hits her knees and climaxes, hands balled into fists at her side. The steam dissipates, and the water runs cold. The fog retreats, a little as she steps from the shower then curls around her bare legs and clings. She’s already empty again and the fog waits to swallow her up.  



End file.
